


Willow

by Vendrasola



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-07-27 11:55:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20045602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vendrasola/pseuds/Vendrasola
Summary: Willow White was a 23-year-old woman who took a leap into the unknown and found out what happens when you become a 'soul-murderer'. Assigned to the highest-ranking elite, Willow must adjust to her new life as a servant to the angels while she lives side-by-side the world she left behind. In time, she learns about bending the rules of the universe and how even in death you can find a reason to live and love.





	1. Chapter 1

_You know what happens when you die?_

_Or, I should say, what happens when you kill yourself?_

_I know in many religions, suicide is considered a sin. I wasn't particularly religious, but that really doesn't matter once you're dead. What does matter is all these religions kind of have the correct idea. Do not kill yourself. Do not take your fate into your own hands. If you do, fire and brimstone are promised. In Hinduism, they call it '_ _atmahatya_ _', which literally means "soul-murderer" and the act of killing your own soul prevents you from coming back or being liberated._

_In short: you're stuck between life and what happens after life. Normally, or so I've been told, you can choose: return in accordance with your previous lives and the goals of your soul, or move on and become merged with the energy you once were. What happens after that I'm not sure. I'll probably never know._

_Why is that?_

_I committed an unforgivable sin. The ultimate sin. And I can't plead my case with the 'big guy upstairs'. There isn't one, I don't think. There's a system of checks and balances and spiritual energy flowing back and forth that all abide by the universal laws they created. Every being or entity has its role and they all work together, believe it or not. In a way, since we are connected, we created ourselves. So the myths or beliefs in the old life are carried over in the new life. Is this confusing? I'm confused on how this all works, but he tells me I will understand in time._

_Who is he? Right. Back to my original question._

_What happens when you kill yourself?_

_Your soul is no longer yours. More specifically, you're taken by either an angel, a demon or even an 'old god' to serve them in their duties. They take on the basis of seniority; when a soul becomes available and they see a need, they summon one. Whoever has the highest rank gets first pick. These types are the few elite entities who stay among the living and the spirits. And since those of us who have killed ourselves are trapped between the two...well, I'm sure you can see the connection._

_My story started when I decided that flinging myself off the top of my apartment building was the best course of action._

_In a way, it was. _


	2. Leap of Faith

  
_I'm nothing._

_I'm a failure._

_Nobody calls me, nobody texts me, nobody cares._

_I've been this way for years._

_But I could get out of bed._

_Now I can't._

_I stopped showing up to school. Nobody called, but after the semester I got a letter explaining why I flunked._

_It was fine, I was flunking anyway._

_I stopped showing up to work. Nobody called me. I'm sure my final paycheck hit my bank at some point. I haven't checked. _

_I stopped buying groceries, so I stopped eating._

_I didn't go out anymore, so I stopped bathing._

_I kept the TV running for background noise. To keep my mind off the emptiness inside. To make my cold studio apartment feel full and warm like people were around me._

_My account must have run dry because the electricity was cut._

_How long has it been? Not even the landlord has come to kick me out yet. Either it hasn’t been as long as it feels or I’m really that insignificant. I'm not sure._

_But I am sure I can't stand the loneliness anymore._

_I can't take hearing the families around me, all having fun, enjoying themselves, loving, laughing, living. I can hear them through the walls. I can see them out the window._

_Why _ _did_ _ you all forget about me?_

_I will die like I lived - alone, forgotten. I’m sorry._

The girl set her pen down on an emptied space of the dining room table. Her long nails tapped the glass as she reread her note in the darkened room. Just enough light fed through her blinds to see the scrawled letter among the mess of clothes, old books, and empty take-out packages strewn about. She drew in a deep breath as she leaned back and closed her eyes, exhaling the strum of nerves that dared well within her. She was already resolute in her decision, in her world, there was no returning.

She pushed away from the table and stood, taking the red drawstring backpack displaying her university's name, it's contents already emptied. The girl opened the front door enough to slide out and barely closed it behind her, leaving it unlocked. She turned and walked intently down the long corridor with the wrinkled, loose and torn carpeting, stained and in a general state of sticky matting. Making her way to the stairwell, she stopped and looked at the door beside it.

"Apt. 372"

The door had stickers and an out-of-season wreath made up of children's handprints cut out of green construction paper. Each hand had the name of each child that lived in the small two bedroom apartment. Her thoughts drifted her own childhood, crammed into an equally small apartment with her five siblings. She frowned and cut off those memories. Where were they now? Not here. That's all that mattered to her. She turned and pushed open the stairwell door and began her climb.

Five flights later she reached her destination. She wasn't in a particular rush but still needed to stop at each landing for a moment to catch her breath. Even a year ago the exercise wouldn't have been a problem. But today? Each step was heavy, so she took her time. When she reached the last door, it was simply a matter of kicking away the doormat and revealing a key, hidden below to access the roof. For once she was thankful the security of this building was as atrocious as it was.

The top of the building was nearly a disaster zone. The entirety of the top was black with dust piled about. Random bits of trash sat here and there, empty and broken bottles, torn clothes that looked baked to the roof. She ignored it as she stepped to the ledge, climbing atop the brick overhang. She peeked over and quickly looked away, turning and jumping back to the roof. She moved her feet fast as she found her bearings and the area she wanted. A next-to-perfect landing on empty cement. Ample parking was in the side lot as most of the residents didn't have cars. The unused lot was supposed to have been broken up and made into a community garden but the funds for that were promptly repurposed as soon as they were allocated.

So it stayed unused. Alone. Empty. She found this meet somewhat fitting.

Taking one last look to ensure the area was indeed vacated, she climbed back up to the brick ledge. She looked at the city to her right and suburban area to her left. Lights began to twinkle like stars in the dusk adorned with a clouded sky of pink and orange. A small breeze kicked up her long and wavy auburn hair before she took a breath and covered her head with her drawstring bag, cinching the string to die the opening around her neck.

Gripping either side of the bag's strings and getting a strong footing, she closed her eyes and started a run off the ledge.

***

Falling was the easy part. Her body drifted downward, limp from her sudden loss of consciousness, before smacking on the pavement below with an audible crack. Birds resting on the lines around the building suddenly broke away at the disturbance and passersby stopped to look for the source. Upon impact, the bag she had cinched to her head loosened at the force of matter breaking away but contained most of the resulting mess. Thick red blood pooled under her as her hysteric heart pumped before slowing to a definite stop.

She stood next to her lifeless body as people drifted over. Much like a dream, her vision was hazy and lightened. She looked over herself for minutes before becoming aware of what exactly she was looking at.

"What," she stepped back and looked at herself, and back to her body on the ground. Before her laid a young woman, average height, average body, sickly white skin under old, baggy grey sweatpants, no shoes, a thin red camisole, and several small bracelets covering old scars on her wrists. The bag over her head shifted upwards and she got a glimpse of the damage. This woman was her, she had to be. She had planned this, correct? In confusion, she grimaced and looked away, sirens blaring somewhere behind her. "What have I done?" Looking down at her current state sent her into a panic; she was nude and enveloped in a translucent light hanging down from her head like a sheer veil which entirely covered her body. She raised a shaky arm and watched the light trail and sway under her arm like fabric.

"You murdered your soul," she jumped at the strong, booming yet calm voice coming from directly behind her. Turning to face her addresser, her eyes grew wide and her legs began to tremble, sending her to her knees. It, or he, was a towering being, standing at least seven or eight feet tall by her judgment. The longer she looked at him, the taller and larger he seemed to grow before her. He had light golden skin that shimmered underneath a thick white fabric flowing from a large and grandiose golden belt placed firmly at his lower hip. He had four arms in front of his bare and chiseled humanoid torso, hands together palm-to-palm.

Unable to hold her gaze any further, the girl scrambled and ran.

_This is a nightmare!_ She thought, running straight through the crowd gathered, passed the being and into her apartment building. _A dream. I'm dreaming. A horrible, terrible dream. That's it._ She had a routine for nightmares; she would only need to find her bed and she'd wake up. She hurriedly tried to grab hold of the doorknob to the building and her hand went through it. She paused and looked back at the doorknob before trying again. Feeling resistance, her hand still sank through the object and she felt defeat once again.

Anger welled up within her in a way she hadn't felt in years. Balling her fist, she pounded on the door several times with a loud wail of frustration. To her surprise and relief, the door swung open and she bolted inside, turning the narrow hallway into her own racetrack. She sped up the stairs as fast as her feet could take her.

When she reached her level she stumbled over a wrinkle in the old carpeting and fell face first into the floor.

"Shit!" She groaned, scooting her body forward and glancing behind her. Seeing nobody else following her and that being not on her tail, she pushed through the pain and limped quickly to her room, swinging the door open and flinging her body on her futon. She wrapped her body in her comforter from head to toe and squeezing her eyes shut. She had done this hundreds, if not thousands, of times. In moments she'd drift to sleep in her miserable dream and wake up to her miserable life.

She waited, but sleep didn't come.

After what seemed like hours, she whipped the blanket off and sat up, grumbling, when she saw the being standing mere feet away. This time she took it upon herself to get a good view of his face. It was the same golden color as his skin, which up close seemed to emit its own light. His hair was a straight and silky white that cascaded down from his head to his hips. A golden circlet sat atop his head and rested above his brow; it was a simple design in comparison to his belt but elegant all the same. A pearl stone sat at the very middle and was adorned by gold that wound and wove like vines around him. Connected to the circlet were guards that framed his face and the sides of his head, extending out on either side and coming to a point behind his head. His eyes were large and piercing but narrowed as they looked down at her, caused a shiver to go down her spine. She made contact with his double slitted pupils nestled inside golden irises and immediately wanted to run again. Her dreams had always been vivid, sure, but never such detail on something so inhuman.

He glided towards her even closer. Her eyes shot in the direction of his feet and found him not standing, but floating above the floor. The white cloth of the long garment at his hips ended around two bare, humanoid feet. She pushed herself as far back as she could and brought her knees to her chest, hugging them with her arms and burying her face within.

"You're not real," she whispered, trembling. "This is just a dream. You can't hurt me. Whatever you want, do it, just let me wake up."

"That won't be possible." He was still a foot or so away from her but his voice felt like it was right in her ear. She involuntarily twitched at the sensation. "But do not be mistaken, this is no dream, and you can feel pain. Did it not hurt when you fell in the hallway?" He lowered to the floor and crouched down beside her, placing one of his right hands on her back, the other on her head. She flinched but swore to herself she would not move a muscle. He stayed silent as if waiting for a response to his question. She cursed herself for not waking up yet.

"Look at me."

In an instant, like a reflex, her head jerked upwards and eyes met his once more. He was not asking but commanding, and her body responded not of her own volition. She desperately tried to close her lids or move but she was locked in this position. His inhuman eyes bore into hers and she could no longer hold herself together, even if she wanted to. Releasing whatever it was he was pulling for brought forth heartache.

In his eyes, reflected back at her, she saw every waking moment of her life. From her first view of her mother to her first steps and her first words, to every first day of class, every job interview, every breakup, every bottle of pills and glass of whiskey, every cut, every bruise, and every tear. She watched a once hopeful and happy child grow into the confusion of teen-dom and the cold loneliness of adulthood. She tried looking away when her last moments replayed: the letter, the stairs, the bag, the jump. It felt like a distant memory being brought back to the surface - like old scars were reopened, even though this event just occurred. The last thing she was forced to watch was the impact. What she hadn't been conscious to witness was before her, the ground growing from under her, getting closer and closer. She could feel the wind hitting her face, see every crack in the old worn out pavement as it grew closer and closer until there was nothing but blackness.

He released her and she fell away from his touch, slumping backward with tears streaming down her face. She sat there a moment, collecting her thoughts and looking him over, avoiding his eyes.

"So you are Death?" she asked, dry and defeated. The being stood again, crossing his arms and held his chin high while still keeping his eyes down on her.

"Death has already occurred."

"Then what? Are you taking me to hell?"

He didn't answer.

"Heaven?"

He stared at her. She shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, wondering what fate had in store for her. This was death? No, it couldn't be. There was either more to it or there was nothing. One couldn't possibly continue living on in the world as if nothing had happened.

The top set of his arms unfolded and he extended his left hand towards her.

"Come." She felt her chest pound at his command and her body followed his direction despite her best efforts to resist. Standing almost on her tiptoes, she rose to meet his fingertips with her forehead. "Do not be afraid."

She saw darkness once more.


	3. A First for Everything

When her eyes opened next she was transported to an area unlike anything she'd ever been to. Surrounding her was darkness with splashes of colors - purples, pinks, whites, and blues, similar to that of the galaxies she had studied in school. In fact, she may just be surrounded by a colorful night-time sky as nothing else told her otherwise.

She knelt over from her seated position and scooted to her knees, running her hand along the silky floor she was on. It rippled under her touch like water but did not wet her hands or her legs. She stood and it nearly splashed under her as she took a step. It was a dark, fluid-like substance that reflected the sky around her like a still lake or pond in the middle of the night. All that seemed to be missing was the sounds of crickets and frogs singing into the darkness. She turned to either side and took a hesitant step in each direction.

"Hello?" Her voice broke as she called out into the void.

"Hello." She jumped at the quick and sudden response from behind her. Whipping around, she saw the being levitating in the lotus position before her. She blinked and took a step back.

"Who are you?" She demanded.

"I am called-"

"Where am I?"

"You are within my-"

"What do you want with me?"

He raised a brow and broke his position, stepping down to stand on both feet and moving towards her slowly. "Are you ready to let me speak?"

She put a hand to her chest to feel the anxiety in her pounding heart and paced backward as he advanced. Catching herself, she stood still in shock; there was no thumping against her hand. "How?" She whispered to herself, pulling her hand away from her body and gazing at it in disbelief. "I feel it, but..."

"You are dead," he stated, nonchalantly. "Or have you not come to this conclusion after all you've seen?"

Mouth agape, she peered up at him. "_Ob-Obviously..."_ Stuttering into a whisper she cast her gaze down to her bare feet, just sitting atop the strange floor. She heard him inhale and sigh deeply before once again pacing towards her. Alerted, she moved back again.

"I am called Micah. O'zali Micah Samael. This is my realm." He extended his arms outward, motioning to their surroundings, and paused as if waiting for a response, but none came. Instead, the girl stood in her place, slowly moving her head around, eyes wide. "What I want with you is irrelevant. You are mine, now, and will serve the division."

"Then-then this is Hell? I am destined to suffer an eternity?" Her voice shook not only in fear but confusion.

"Young one, does this look like any of the levels of Hell to you?" Micah placed his four hands on his hips and leaned towards her.

"I don't know. I've never been to Hell." She retorted, folding her and across her chest.

"Fair point," he replied. "But it is not. With any luck, you shall never experience the likes of that place. So long as you serve well, I do not foresee any issues."

"Wait," she interrupted him. "I can still go to Hell? This isn't a pearly gates, yes or no, kind of thing?"

He stared at her before proceeding. "I can, I will, and I have sentenced soul murderers to demons." She turned her head down once more, unable and unwilling to respond. She thought this an important moment to keep her mouth shut. "However, that is not who I am or what I am about. Your society know my kind as angels, by your definitions, I am. We are the Guardians of the Guarded and Protectors of the Protected." He extended a hand to her and she hesitated slightly before placing her small-by-comparison palm into his. "And you are now a Protector as well. I am glad to have you in my service, Willow. Especially a strong Crystal such as yourself. You will serve us well." He placed an opposite hand over hers and offered a reassuring grip along with a smile that seemed genuine.

Unsure of how to respond she remained silent. He released her and her arms sank to her sides. Her head hung low, the lighted and airy veil surrounding her floated in front of her like a mist with every subtle movement. Her eyes caught the movement and held until it stilled and blurred away from her focus. Tears welled and pooled down her cheeks in silent mourning for the life she left behind. A pang of regret mixed with the fear of uncertainty creating a heaviness on her chest. She resisted the urge to hold herself, knowing there would be no beating heart to hold.

"You need time," Micah broke the silence with a lowered, hushed tone. "You'll have questions. This is why I've brought you here; why I bring all of my new Protectors here. You do not own your soul anymore, but you will still maintain your individuality, your peace of mind. It will be hard to adjust but find that peace here. When it is time, when you are ready, I will collect you again."

Micah turned and began to walk away from her, the fluid floor beneath him rippling with every step. For a moment, that movement was the only disturbance in the realm as she stood frozen, eyes wide, watching him fade into the distance. Suddenly, she broke her trance as he was nearly gone.

"Wait!" She shouted, breaking into a sprint after him. "Please!" She shrieked as she ran after him but he did not turn back."Don't leave me alone!" The girl fell to her knees, pounding against the floor with balled-up fists, weeping and screaming, and unable to control herself, let her emotions out like a spewing volcano. Her breaths quickened, her chest tightened, she felt her body go weightless and drift into the space-like void. Losing all sense of self, she let the tides of her anguish carry her away into the darkness. The further she coasted, the more her mind grew numb, succumbing to the cold and torturous loneliness that overtook her.

Quivering, she drew her legs to her chest and held her body tightly and stayed afloat for an immeasurable amount of time. At first, her only thoughts were on her current situation and what she could see. The more she tried, the harder it became to keep her eyes closed. Countless twinkling stars and hazy colors brightened as her tears dried and she calmed.

Eventually, she relaxed her body and spread out as if laying on top of still waters. Willow gazed into the unending night and sighed as she focussed on the swirls of colors surrounding her. Her mind would prod at her consciousness, reminding her of where she was and who she was but she refused to acknowledge those thoughts: the thoughts of being alone again, of expecting to be no more or to be surrounded by a higher consciousness and accepted, of leaving her insecurities and failures behind. The thought that told her she was wrong once more. That no matter what she did or said she would have no control. That she was living her worst nightmare in this moment, not in the moments leading up to her own death. She was truly, unequivocally, alone with no escape.

Despite her best efforts, she submitted to the pressing images and fears that flooded her senses. Quietly, this time, she wept. She longed for the comfort of her bed, for the sounds of the families next door and the city outside, for the warm, melting feeling of sinking into a hot bath, for her mother's voice or her sister's embrace. For the laughter of her friends, the smiles of her co-workers, the perfume of the flowers, songs of the birds, and the brightness of the rising sun that greeted her every day, regardless of her actions or thoughts.

She refused to forgive herself for not seeing these things while she was still alive. For taking it all for granted. She refused to forgive herself for throwing away her soul or her chances of finding the joys in these small things again. As her body swept along the current of the realm, she wondered if she truly had an opportunity to see these things or if they were blind to her the whole time.

Come to think of it, she thought, in the short time she has been in this realm, her thoughts and feelings are clearer than ever - and equally as intense. She couldn't recall ever feeling this strongly about anything. Even the numbness in the aftermath of her breakdown was far more intense than the numbness she grew used to in her life. This peculiar sense of awareness disturbed her indifference and she sat up.

No longer adrift but back to the ground, she folded her legs and wiped her face, settling into herself.

***

"Willow?" She slowly opened her eyes and focused on the sight before her: Micah and another being - an angel? Willow rubbed her eyes. This person, this woman next to him, resembled an angel in more ways than Micah did. She was about a head shorter than he was and covered in a draped white chiton dress that cascaded around her curvy form with grace. Atop her head sat long, curly blonde hair that was partially covered by a himation. It wove around the top of her head and wrapped over her shoulders, falling in silky waves behind her. Her skin was gleaming like Micah's but rather than a bright golden color, her skin tone was quieter and more subtle - nearly pale given the right light, Willow imagined. Her eyes were white and narrow, sitting above a turned up nose and rosy, full lips. Her body was humanoid, like Willow's, save for the voluminous wings arcing above her head and out past her shoulders. They were filled with soft, white feathers of varying sizes which seemed to fade away at the edges like puffs of thick white smoke dispersing into the air.

Willow stood to her feet and held her hands behind her back. No longer overcome with emotions and long since finding peace of mind, her nerves were settled. However, she found the interruption bothersome. This new feeling nearly shocked her as she flashed back to how afraid she was of being alone. Was it this place? This realm that made her feel so...sane? While she did not yearn to be left alone again per se, she was beginning to realize perhaps she actually enjoyed her own company. She had not slept, not as she had dealt with loneliness in her life, because she couldn't find the mind to fall asleep. No, this was different; this was new. She didn't mind it. Truth be told, she thought, she wouldn't have minded Micah coming back by himself. The presence of another welled up different feelings within her. She wasn't sure if she was ready for the emotional investment needed to meet a new person just yet. But that was out of her control.

"Hello," Willow greeted them smoothly.

"You're ready," Micah responded, tilting his golden head up and offering a small smile down at her. "Willow, I would like to meet one of my Guardians." He gestured to the woman. "She is called Hayyel. Gizhaadan Hayyel, this is my latest Protector, Willow."

"Just Willow?" The woman turned to him and asked, her voice like a whisper. Micah nodded.

"Her designation will come with time. I still am not sure of her capabilities just yet, though she shows promise." He turned to Willow. "I was telling Hayyel about when I collected you. Do you remember?"

"I do."

"You manipulated your surroundings quite easily. That is not common among your kind, as a soul-murderer and a Crystal. I'm quite impressed. Intrigued, but impressed nonetheless." He paused and walked around her, Hayyel following quickly behind. Willow followed them with her head but remained otherwise still. "Look at the purity," he commented to the winged woman, reaching two left hands out to flutter the veil that covered her body. "Isn't it stunning? I have not collected a soul like this in ages."

Hayyel nodded, "I can see why you chose her."

"As I said, I just happened upon her. It wasn't until I searched her that I knew she would be mine."

"She will serve you beautifully, my O'zali. I will ensure this personally." Hayyel stopped in front of Willow and knelt down to her level, leaning forward and planting a kiss on her forehead. "Forgive us for speaking on you as if you were not here, young one. It is not common to see a Crystal as a Protector." She cupped her cheek with the palm of her hand yet despite the warm gestures, Willow felt uneasy. Crystal? Protector? Purity? She was having a hard time following.

"I don't understand," she said. Hayyel smiled and stood, her wings fluttering behind her.

"You will," Micah spoke up. "With time, you will. For now, however, Hayyel will be guiding you to the Protectors. I will find you later. I promise I will answer any questions you may have for me."

"Micah?" Willow quickly interjected him before he had a chance to run off from her again.

"Yes, young one?"

"How long was I here?"

"Roughly a year and four months." Her eyes grew wide. _This can't be true,_ she thought.

"Micah?" He nearly turned away from her before she spoke up once more. Looking back to her he urged her to continue. "Can I come back here again?"

"Of course." He turned back and walked away as he had done the first time, growing dimmer and dimmer the further he went until he was gone. She looked over to Hayyel.

"Follow me," the woman said, abruptly. Willow hurried to train behind her as quickly as she could - Hayyel was very fast. It almost seemed she was purposefully trying to leave her behind.

"Hayyel?" She asked, picking up her pace and coming up nearly beside her. She opened her mouth to continue her question but stopped when she saw her surroundings gradually change. From the dark, night sky realm the two emerged to grey waves followed by the sights and sounds of the city. Willow immediately knew where they were. "Wow!" She exclaimed, turning back and finding the way they'd just come gone. Transported to the living world, she was rendered speechless. It seemed early morning, the doves were singing and the sun was just above the pinkened horizon. The sidewalks were sparsely filled with early risers off to a long day of labor, and the streets were already in full operation. She inhaled deeply and smirked. She still could smell, and the city still smelled nasty. But the scent awakened nostalgia within her. Nostalgia she wouldn't be able to explore.

Hayyel slowly turned to Willow, her white eyes aglow narrowed at her sternly. "You will never call me Hayyel again. I am always Gizhaadan."

"Ih-shaw-dun?" She attempted to mimic the strange word. Hayyel rolled her eyes and repeated it again to her.

"You'll have no more chances. Utilize proper respect when you speak to your superiors. O'zali Micah Samael may tolerate it but I will not.

Willow swallowed hard. "I'm sorry, Gizhaadan. I...I didn't know..." She muttered her words, desperately wanting to turn back around and run to the realm she had left.

"Of course you didn't, your kind never 'know'," she scoffed. "Why do you think you're here? Ignorance is no excuse."

"To be honest, I don't really know why I'm here." She was barely audible at this point. Any sense of peace or calm she had before this was shattered. The sudden turn of attitude and regard for her cut her deeper than she could have imagined it would. She wondered if she was always this sensitive or if her time in the realm made her this way.

"To serve. Come." She stated before starting down the sidewalk again, completely ignoring people as she walked through them. Willow followed suit reluctantly. "You are a servant. Now and forever you will serve the division as a Protector of the Protected. Whether it is bringing the elderly home or rescuing a mother from a burning building, we will give you a job and you will perform that job. When it is finished, you will be given another, and another, and another still. Your work will be unending."

"That sounds kind of fun, actu-"

"No!" Hayyel stopped, her wings stretched far. She looked at Willow again with her glowing white eyes. "This is not a game, foolish Crystal! This is life and death. This is being the guiding light or armor for lost or unprotected souls. This is working for the greater good in our ceaseless war against evil. We do not do this for fun, we do this because it is what we were created to do, it is what we have ingrained into our very souls. Your soul is not your own, it belongs to us; you are an extension of our energy. We gift this to you in good faith, to save you from the wretched clutches of demons and monsters who would do your energy harm. You are used to serve our creators. If we do not do this; if we do not continue to find our way to grace life with divine intervention we cannot expect our life, your 'afterlife', to continue the way it has continued. There would be no life, no death, no afterlife. There would be rampant, lawless, chaotic energies abound and unchecked. The lines between the world you knew and the world we hold would blur. We cannot allow that. There must be order. There must be good. This is why we serve and why you serve us. It is as it always has been and it will always be. Never!" She stressed her words and crouched to Willow's level as she'd done before. "Never refer to this with such disrespect. This is your first lesson."

Willow swallowed and tried to digest the mountain of information which had just been handed to her. With Hayyel still intently glaring at her still, she simply nodded and sighed in relief as she backed away, turned around and started her path again.

"Your next lesson is your first assignment." The hanging ruffled fabric and soft white feathers fluttered behind her as she hurried down the walk. Willow quickened her pace in a hasty effort to keep up.

"My first assignment?" Her question went unanswered. Hayyel lead her several blocks in complete silence, through the crowds of people which were growing in the number the closer they came to the inner city.

"Here." She abruptly halted, and Willow barely stopped herself from crashing into her backside.

"Huh?" She twisted her head either way before realizing where she was. Hayyel had lead her to one of the many nursing homes within the city. This one happened to be one Willow had seen numerous times on her way to work but never really acknowledged. The side above the front entrance read Our Lady's Hospice Center in fancy, white cursive wooden letters secured onto a stark black background above two sets of automatic sliding doors. A security guard's desk sat just inside the vestibule and a healthy number of planters decorated the entrance with thick, well-manicured flowers and ferns. The simple brick stairs and ramp in the front paled in comparison to the splashes of colors surrounding them.

"When you are finished, we will collect you." Willow turned back to Hayyel and jumped at her unexpected disappearance.

"What!?" She ran up and down the sidewalk, hopelessly searching for the angel. "No, no, no! Why do you people do this to me!?" She plopped down on a step in front of the center and held her face in her hands. "Who just leaves someone to a job and doesn't give them instruction?! What kind of backward operation is this?!" She turned her head back up and yelled into the sky, not exactly angry but more than frustrated. Sinking her head back to her hands she sat pensively.

She thought on Micah's last words to her. Had she truly been in that realm for over a year? Nothing in the city seemed different to her, though a year isn't much of a time jump if she were being honest. He also told her she could go back. _Of course_. Of course, she can return. A shiver ran down her back as she realized she had not asked how she can return. The loneliness of her new surroundings was cold. At least in Micah's realm, she could rely on a feeling of peace and calm to overcome her and relax her senses. Serving? Working? Assignment? Lesson? No, going back to that place of comfort would be more ideal than this. _Whatever 'this' is,_ she thought. _What am I supposed to do?_

She turned her head as the sound of automatic doors whooshed behind her. Two older women and a younger man slowly made their way out of the building, arms firmly locked together, somber looks on their downcast faces. _Oh, God. _She stood when she saw what was behind them.

Standing in the vestibule was a man about her size. Lean in stature with a tanned skin tone, he stood with his hands on his hips over black colored jeans and a simple v-neck black shirt. Brown hair curled over his ears and swooped around his diamond shaped face and just sat above his sparkling green eyes. His nose was wide set and complimented his dark, full lips but what really stood out to her was the scarring that covered much of the right side of his face. A dark, brownish-red color created an illusion of a pit that ran around his right eye, under it, and spidered out from it like bolts of lightning to his nose, jawline, chin, and mouth. Willow saw his eyes meet hers.

He smiled.


	4. Make the Days Count

"I've been here a few months, so if you have any questions about anything you can always ask me. I'm likely not going anyplace anytime soon." The man carefully guided Willow down the halls of the nursing home. The mellow lights in the hall were a soft and comforting yellow glowing from sconces next to each private room. Some doors were open, revealing empty rooms. Others shut tight. The rest were slightly cracked, allowing her a glimpse of the lives wasting away in the room. Most were as she'd imagined: terribly ill or elderly men and women, in their beds covered in blankets and either asleep or staring into nothing, hooked to machines. Most rooms were accompanied by their own set of _beep beep beeps,_ indicating the occupant was still there or their bodies were alive, at least. Willow wasn't sure how to respond to him, so she stayed silent.

"You get used to it," he disturbed her silence when the reached the end of the hallway. A double-paned window let in the morning light, illuminating the glittering dust atop the fake flowers sitting on the table below. To the right was yet another room, the door cracked. She offered him a puzzled look. "Being dead," he clarified. "Serving the living. Being here..." he trailed off softly, and Willow could sense a slight bit of contempt in his words. She glanced at his face and looked elsewhere, fumbling with her veil before a stark realization struck her: she was still nude under this sheer covering. Her face and shoulders went hot. She jerked an arm across her chest and placed the other over her front, pushing her thighs together to retain any bit of modesty she still could. Would he notice?

She heard him chuckle and looked up; he was smirking.

"I can't see anything, you know," he explained, crossing his arms. "You Crystal children are so funny. It's just a body."

_Says the guy wearing proper clothing_. Willow shot back in snappy thought. This was the first she'd questioned this. But another burning question seized her over and she finally spoke up.

"I've heard that before.'Crystal', what does it mean?" Her voice was gentle. He extended a willing hand out to her with a kind smile. She hesitated before letting go of her exposed chest and taking hold of him. His grip was gentle, and his touch sent a wave of warmth up her arm. He beckoned her into the room on the right and they both slipped through the door with ease.

The room was small and ordinary. One illuminated window was covered in half-opened blinds and tan plush curtains with pink and blue flowers at the edges. There was a television set mounted to the wall, turned off, above a small and empty wooden dresser. Across from the TV laid an elderly woman, with salt and pepper hair that was overdue for a washing. She was thin and frail, her ghostly white skin clung to her body like wet linen. Her eyes were shadowed and sunken in, closed in slumber. She was hooked in various places to countless machines. An oxygen tube wrapped around her ears and sat snugly in her prominent nose. She had a few IV bags surrounding her which attached to the back of her right hand. Willow covered her mouth. The unfortunate woman was deathly ill.

He escorted her to her left side where an empty chair sat next to an end table. On the table were an opened Bible and a photo. He motioned her to sit, and she did, taking in the photo in silent respect. There was a couple standing next to a flowing river. The man was tall and buff, with a head full of slightly mussed flaxen hair, dressed in a plaid shirt and high waisted pants with suspenders. He was smiling from ear to ear, grasping a fishing line with a good-sized fish hanging from the end with one hand. His other arm was gently wrapped around the woman, in mid-laugh, dressed in a simple dress with a squared cut chest, short sleeves and an apron. Her hair was coal-black and lush, braided into two messy braids that fell to her waist with ribbons at the ends. It was clear the couple was camping and the photo was snapped after a long day of activities. Willow smiled. They were happy together. She set her focused eyes back on the dying woman in the bed and knew she was undoubtedly the one in the photo.

"This is Carolyn. Her dear husband, Roderick, passed away a few years ago. The doctors say she is simply suffering from senescence, but I believe she'd dying of a broken heart." Willow held her breath. "When she's conscious," he continued, "she doesn't watch television. She doesn't read or talk to the nurses. She won't look at me. She merely stares at him." He leaned over her and clasped her hand in his.

"She can see you?" Willow croaked through a tight throat. He nodded thoughtfully.

"When they're so close to death, they usually can see us. We are here to comfort them, keep them company in their ultimate moments. She used to acknowledge me, but not anymore. Carolyn?" He spoke her name loudly and rubbed the top of her hand gently. She didn't move. Willow sat motionless, watching him care for this helpless woman. It reminded her of what a child or a grandchild might typically do for their dying loved one, but they couldn't be related. "She has no other family," he answered her unspoken question. "But she knows she's not alone." He let her go but stayed near.

"How long..."

"Probably tonight or tomorrow. Deaths always come in thirds, it seems. Charles passed a few hours ago, and Robin the day before. Unless there's some accident with another, Carolyn is next on my list. She's stopped responding to everyone and has hardly been awake in days. I overheard her doctor say more of her organs were shutting down." His voice went low and dark. "It's only a matter of time."

"How sad," Willow commented carefully. He seemed genuinely upset.

"No." He straightened up and flattened his shirt. "It's what happens. To most of them. They pass over well enough. It's a happy release for them." He still kept his voice low, but it wasn't as dark.

"Oh," she whispered tensely.

For a moment, they stayed in silence and allowed the calm of the room to settle to a deafening stillness. Her ears rang between the beeping of the machines.

He quietly paced to the door and promptly turned to her. "I'm meeting someone in a little bit. You should probably find a patient or two...get to know them, that kind of thing. Make yourself at home." His tone made Willow's throat tighten, as it was almost somber. She couldn't tell if that was just his ordinary state of being, if he was sad about Carolyn, or he had something more to say but was holding back. She reasoned it could be all three, for all she knew it could be none considering she barely knew him. He started to leave, and she shot out of her seat.

"Wait!" She cried out in a harsh whisper as if she'd rouse the woman. He turned back to her and cocked a brow. Her mind went blank. A split second ago she was full of questions, finally being able to speak candidly._ Where are you going? Where do I go? What do I do? Can I leave? What if I need help? I've never done this before, I do need help! _"What's your name?" Was all she could manage.

"Jonah," he replied politely with a half-smile before turning to leave again. "Don't worry, I'll be back shortly."

Willow crept to the edge of the door and peeked out to the hallway but he was already gone.


End file.
